


Christmas Just Isn’t the Same

by HopeMikaelsonClarke



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Other, POV First Person, POV Vanya Hargreeves, Sad Christmas Fic, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, Vanya Misses Her Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeMikaelsonClarke/pseuds/HopeMikaelsonClarke
Summary: 13 year old Vanya Hargreeves reflects on her first Christmas without her two favorite brothers.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Christmas Just Isn’t the Same

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don’t own The Umbrella Academy.

I can’t comprehend their absences. One gone, the other disappeared. I could ask Klaus, ask if he could talk to either of them, but that would just make it all hurt even more. They were the only ones that didn’t make me feel left out. The ones that always made sure I was included when they weren’t busy running around and going on missions for Dad. We were a team of our own. The only ones that celebrated Christmas, even if it was just the three of us. What’s worse is that I already had their presents picked out. And now they’re worthless. I’m worthless. Worthless and alone.

Dad blames the others for Ben, but my sinking suspicion is that he really blames Five. That if Five hadn’t left, Ben would still be alive. That it was Five and his spacial jumps, switching out the bad guys’ weapons, that made The Umbrella Academy’s missions so successful. And because he wasn’t there to do that, Ben’s life was lost. I fear that Dad blames Five the most, but blames the others for not picking up the slack following Five’s disappearance. Cause and effect. Five disappeared so Ben died.

I lost my two best friends and now I have no one. Luther and Allison are too busy being infatuated with each other to pay me any attention; Diego and I have never really been super close; and Klaus has descended into drug use since Ben’s death. The only two that I would ever be able to, or want to confide in, are the same two that left me alone in the first place. I tried to warn Five… tried to dissuade him from proving Dad wrong about his readiness to time travel, but he didn’t listen. And then Ben died.

I glance down at the two boxes sitting on my bed. Their names are sprawled across the tags. I had worked extra hard to get their Christmas gifts just right. Worked tirelessly on them while they were on missions. Dad never let me get close enough to the others when they were on missions anyway, so I just started staying home with Mom and Pogo. But now the only ones who will have ever heard the compositions that I wrote for Five and Ben will have been Mom and Pogo. My favorite brothers, my best friends, will never hear the Christmas songs I wrote for them. I should just burn them.

“Miss Vanya?”

Pogo’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts and back into the pre- the here and now. Both boxes are in the trash can and I have a match ready to light. I look between Pogo, the match and the boxes, and then back to Pogo. My vision is starting to blur with unshed tears and I drop onto my bed, curling up in a tight ball. I squeeze my eyes shut, tightly, and I try to block out the noise around me. I can hear Pogo moving into the room and pulling the boxes from the trash can. Everything seems so loud around me. I cover my ears but even that doesn’t help.

“Vanya, sweetheart? Are you feeling alright?”

It’s Mom. Of course she would come, not that she could do anything about what I’m feeling. No amount of comfort would fill the gaping hole in my heart that was left by Five and Ben. Why did they have to leave me? I curl up into a tighter ball and will the sounds to go away. It doesn’t work. The sounds get louder and things start to shake. It takes me just before everything goes dark to realize the loudest sound was my own cries of my brothers’ names.

** TUA - CJITS - TUA **

When I wake up, I’m in the basement. My own personal hell. The dreaded sound proof cell. Dad had it made for me years ago when I broke his favorite monocle. I still don’t understand why he keeps me down here for days or weeks on end. All I know is that whenever I’m down here, my medication gets increased. Dad won’t let Mom or Pogo tell me why. I’ve stopped asking. Maybe if I’m good, my containment won’t last as long this time. I don’t let myself hope for that outcome though. I’m never let out for good behavior.

It’s not long after I wake up that Mom shows up with something to eat and my increased dosage of medication. I take the medication dutifully and swallow it with a few sips of water before taking a bite of the sandwich. My eyes sting with tears as the sandwich falls open out of my hands. Peanut butter and marshmallows. Five’s favorite. I look up at Mom and catch Dad’s scornfully sharp gaze over Mom’s shoulder. He knows that this sandwich was Five’s favorite. He gauging my reaction. Studying my response. I blink back my tears, put the sandwich back together and take another bite.

The more I eat, the heavier my tongue feels. I hear Five’s voice echoing in my ears. The last words I heard him say. At least… the last words he said to  me : “you’re the best of us, Vanya… you’re every bit a part of this family, no matter what the old man says.”

When I’m done eating, Mom takes the tray away and I’m locked away in my cell. I wait until the elevator doors slide shut at the far end of the corridor before I cry myself to sleep, mourning the losses of my brothers.

** TUA - CJITS - TUA **

I’m still in my cell come Christmas Day. It’s been nearly two weeks and the only people I see are Mom, Dad and Pogo. The others don’t seem to even notice that I’m not around. With every day that has passed since I was brought back down here, Dad has had Mom increase the dosage on my medication. The pain and hurt over the losses of Five and Ben have been numbed to a feeling of indifference at this point. I still miss them, but I no longer cry myself to sleep over them. It doesn’t do me any good. I have no powers. I can’t turn back time and stop Five from leaving, or to save Ben. They are gone and I have to keep going.

Dad seems appeased by my progress in the cell and let’s me out in time for dinner on Christmas Day. I sit at my spot, silently eating, keeping to myself. Without Five and Ben, I’m even more detached from the rest of my siblings. None of them make any motion to include me in their silent conversations. I doubt I would even be able to carry a silent conversation with any of them, anyway. Dad keeps a close eye on me throughout the entire meal and I keep my head down as I eat.

Once we are excused from the table, and I get back to my room, I find Five and Ben’s Christmas presents propped up against my pillow. I move the boxes to my music stand and prepare for bed. In the morning I’ll file the music sheets away.

** TUA - CJITS - TUA **

Morning came and went. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. I went through the motions of living a life, but felt nothing. My body, my mind, my heart… all numb. I kept the lights on in hopes that Five would come back, left him his favorite peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches as a snack. He never came back. I eventually stopped waiting for him to do so. What was the point, anyway? Dad kept on like nothing had happened, only having the painting of Five put up as a reminder to the rest of us not to disobey him.

We all drifted apart. Allison used her powers to become famous. Klaus fell deeper into drugs. Diego left to be some sort of vigilante. I left. Luther stayed. Desensitized to everything, and feeling even less like part of the family, I wrote a book. Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number 7. My siblings hated me for it, I don’t know if Dad ever read it. I hadn’t thought of any repercussions to writing it. I hadn’t thought of how my brothers and sister would feel about me outing the family secrets. As I had written it, a small piece of me felt reconnected to Five and Ben. That feeling lasted until I took my medication again.

But the worst part of all of it? I never could bring myself to get rid of those songs that I wrote for my brothers. I felt nothing, yet I couldn’t throw them away. And even though I couldn’t throw them away, I also couldn’t bring myself to celebrate Christmas after that first year without them. Christmas just isn’t the same without the ones you love there to celebrate with you.


End file.
